Cowards Don't Fight!
by NikoNikoRice
Summary: I'm crazy. That must be it, I've flat out just lost my sanity…they'd break my bird bones to pieces!   Oneshot


**Heya everybody! : D LurkingSpork here just wanting to say hello/goodnight. I wasn't too sure about posting this but...It can't hurt right? I love feedback, and getting to talk with you guys of course, so please don't be shy about messaging me! : D**

**Stan and Kyle are slightly OOC for convenience sake (Maybe they were just having a bad day? Lol). Remember, I just wrote this for fun C:**

**Short story/oneshot.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park C:**

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><p><strong>- . -<strong>

In my dreams I was as tall as mountains. I was strong and assured – courageous. Nothing could topple me, and men respected me. It was probably a good thing I rarely dreamed, rarely slept even. Better not to dream, then to take a step, only to find myself plummeting into a giant rock. The world said I should be big, but all my life I could only seem to be small.

I was a coward.

Coward, coward, _coward_. The words echoed through my head, following me, wherever I went. Reality wouldn't leave me alone; couldn't I even sleep without it chasing me? "Tweek…Tweek dear, time to get up for school sweetheart…," Twittered a gentle voice. God…was it really that time already? Why had I even fallen asleep…?

Cracking my eyes open, I blearily tried to make out the shapes in front of me. It's hard when the sun tries to set fire to my retinas.

"Tweek, honey, you'll be late, and then what will the other parents think of me?" Snapping my adjusting gaze to the object of my aggravation I uttered a groan. Perfect makeup, chin length chestnut hair, a soft face, ironed blue dress and apron. Mrs. Tweak to some, Cindy to others, Mom to me stood perched just outside the doorway of my room.

I wondered about the mom part.

She never came in, I'm sure even the thought of it made her nervous, and instead just smiled and wrung her hands. When she found out I wasn't going to be as normal as the other little boys and girls, she seemed to stop trying to know me at all.

Well…good, I don't need her, hadn't in a long time.

What did she expect anyway? She'd practically cursed me at birth when she named me Tweek!

"…O-okay. I'm up, s-so l-leave!" I ground out, lifting myself up and off my stomach to make the point. Mom just flitted back down the stairs; she got what she'd wanted. Looking in the mirror of the bathroom, I noted the dark bags under my brown eyes, a skinny white boy staring back. Well, nothing new. I didn't bother changing crinkled, badly buttoned clothes, or fixing my abused blonde hair. It's not like they'd look any different on me if they were clean. Taking one last look at my cluttered sanctuary, I shuffled downstairs. The permeating smell of coffee wafted around the spotlessly clean kitchen like a smog. It was tantalizingly sick to me, sliding off my skin like a snake; slimy and smooth.

Dad must already be at the coffee shop I noticed, much to my relief.

"Oh Tweek…couldn't you have put on something-""N-no." I interrupted, and we just stared at each other before I couldn't deal with the eye contact anymore and looked down to bite my lip. Pansy. "Oh dear, but the others…well here, at least eat something, you're too skinny!" She tried, shoving one of her 'special' home made muffins at me.

I used to love sweets…

Ah.

I ate one of those last night. Would explain why I feel like such a zombie.

I don't eat much because the only food in this house is coffee and pastries, and they're all drugged! I swear to God man. After I refused to take the medication that would 'help' me, I'm not a zombie I don't eat brains, and my parents couldn't get me with the coffee anymore, they moved onto hiding it in the food. 'You need the pill to be normal, we want what's best for you.' they'd say. Stupid, they want what's easiest for them.

"Tweek!"

Running clumsily out the house, I kept sprinting till I felt the tight tension of burning muscle, because as unlikely as it is what if I got kidnapped and sold into slavery along the way? I wouldn't survive, have you seen me? I'm the perfect target! I could scream for help, but who's to say those nearby aren't in on it too? My parents probably hired them, like they always threaten! Nobody would help me! I wailed to myself miserably.

I don't have any friends; I used to, before they got tired of my quirks. So I guess it's just me and my trusty self, off to defend against the local pedophile.

Awesome.

Yeah. I was all about the self preservation.

**- . -**

High school wasn't much different than elementary to me, just more dangerous. I only spend about 1/3 of my time at the nurse though, which I think is pretty good all things considered. I'm a champ at hiding in the bathroom having panic attacks, while someone tries to end my life. Oh yeah, g-status right there.

God I hate myself. I started to jitter and shake in my seat, kids giving me the stink eye. And while I doubt an eye can be "stinky", maybe if it's decomposing or something it could, I got the point. People didn't like me.

The bell sounds just as I was about to melt into the floor of my lit class, the sound of my peers jeering. Ms. Morgan has it out for me, always calling me out to do presentations and class readings, making a show of it! So I shriek a little from time to time, does that warrant torture? She knows I stutter, who wouldn't, never mind the dyslexia! I tried talking to her about it; tried telling the counselor, finally I even mentioned it to my parents. Nothing. Gah! It's so frustrating, nobody listens! I worried, taking a fair tug at my hair before bringing my hand up to my mouth.

Nail biting, while a terrible disfiguring habit I'm sure didn't help my popularity, had become something of a coping mechanism to me over the years. The healthier one of the many I'd taken to.

If they wouldn't believe me about that, was my logic, then they'd never believe me if I said I was being bullied physically. So I didn't bother saying anything anymore.

No point.

Scurrying through the halls to my calculus class, trying to avoid a stampede of germs, uh…people, from touching me I got pushed unwillingly into a wall of bodies.

Wait…What?

Trying to push down a squeal of anxiety, because men don't squeal damn it, I instead tried to wiggle my way out of the mess. My efforts seemed to be against me, like the rest of my life I thought tiredly, and I was instead shoved to the front lines of a circled brawl.

I squealed.

"Get him Stan; don't let that asshole get away with this!" From beside me shrieked a very angry Wendy Testaburger, cheerleader extraordinaire. Through my many 'bathroom vacations' I knew she was cheating on Stan Marsh with Kyle Broflovski. They're best friends. Stan and Kyle that is. I'm not quite sure what Kyle and Wendy are.

An increase in crowd intensity broke my rather odd thought strain, just as Stan took a right hook to the jaw, tumbling him backwards to the tile. Where are the teachers? Above him, I could finally see, stood scowling black haired, blue eyed Craig (Motherfucking) Tucker.

Craig spat a glob of red down at Stan, before giving him the bird. "Want more?" Snarling Stan threw back a "FUCK you Tucker!" and went for his legs.

One plus for Craig's character, he'd punched a kid out in the third grade after they'd tripped me. I never had said thank you for that, he scared me too much then. And, if anything I'd grown more cowardly as the years went by. But he'd never done anything to me, despite his reputation. Craig had been in more fights than most people combined, though I doubted how many he actually started…I should really say thank you…

Suddenly, I was roughly pushed to the side as one, Kyle Broflovski, barreled his way past me and into Craig, slamming him into the lockers.

Where the hell were the administrators? I thought wildly, gripping my hair. Actually…never mind, this school is twisted enough that they're probly taking bets in the teacher's lounge on who wins.

It was two against one now, Stan having swept his pride up off the floor; finally, – and proceeding to beat Craig with it. Craig, for his part, was doing admirably, but the fight was slowly taking its toll and with the addition of Kyle he was on the losing end.

Oh if only Stan knew…heh.

Everybody was yelling, urging the fight to bloody proportions. I bit my nails like mad. Was everyone crazy? Why wasn't anyone helping? Did they want Craig to go to the hospital? This was their classmate!

Craig was still fighting, but he was on the ground, Stan and Kyle raining both blows and insults down upon him.

I could understand nobody helping me, I was alone and scrawny, unwanted – but Craig surely had friends here, people who cared. At least a few…right?

Someone shoved me into Wendy and she started screeching at me, static noise.

Nobody did anything, nobody helped. Everyone just pounded their fists and feet. Maybe we all really do end up alone, should the crowd decide. The thought put a sick taste in my mouth. Like a bitter blend of guilt. Coward. What? God is this you telling me that it's supposed to be me? Afraid of cobwebs and closets, my own shadow, myself! I couldn't stand up to a four year old! And I was thinking of fighting off Stan and Kyle? I'm crazy. That must be it, I've flat out just lost my sanity…they'd break my bird bones to pieces!

Coward, coward, _coward!_ My conscience raged at me.

Wendy made the choice for me, having grown tired of me ignoring her. Instead of beating me up herself, I'm sure she could do it, she opted to chuck me INTO Stan.

Oh my sweet Jesus…no.

Stumbling back I cowered.

"What the hell?" Stan turned, frowning. Everyone just stopped, and a hush fell over everything like a heavy blanket. Even Craig turned his gaze up to mine, and expecting an icy tundra I flinched. But he just stared blankly at me, though his blue eyes seemed curious, hopeful?

Stan turned fully toward me then, taking a step. Well…the crowd finally shut up, I thought, trying to be optimistic, though I'm pretty sure I just started to hyperventilate, if this wheezing noise is mine that is. Is there a bright side to this? Maybe, but if anything it'll be the light at the end of the tunnel.

"This little tweeker just ran into me, probly tried to feel me up too!" Wendy shattered through the silence, lighting the blanket on fire in a fury.

Oh…there's a light…the light of a freight train just before I've been run over.

"Kill HIM!" And the animals erupted in howls of delight.

Killed dead, I despaired.

"You want some too?" Stan growled at me, smirking ever so slightly in recognition. At 5'7" and 110lbs I am miniscule. Especially compared to his 6'1" and 180lb frame. I know this because I've had a lot of time to compare.

Needless to say, he's tormented me before. Oh bathroom, if only I could get to you!

"U-u-uh n-nooo!" I shrieked, putting my hands up submissively and hunkering down. "I-I uhm t-t-t-tripped!" Trying to back out with my life intact, I caught sight of Craig. His look of curiosity…hope? It had turned to stone. Oh.

'Coward!' Conscience beat at me. 'Shut up shut up!' I countered back.

"Hn…haha whatever Wendy." He snickered "Babe, this tweeker doesn't have it in him to even help himself, let alone touch you!" "Hey!" Sheila complained, making a face. Many of the circled teenagers laughed.

Why are they laughing? It's not a joke, its truth! I thought distractedly.

Turning his back to me, Stan and Kyle went back to abusing Craig, and again people cheered, deeming me less entertainment for once. Here's my chance to go, to never come back. And slowly, oh so small, I began to shuffle my way to the edge of people but…but I can't do this anymore!

Before my mind could tell me how weak my body was, I was flying – a strange and terrifying cry bursting forth from me like a song. It caught every ones attention, they were listening.

"W-what the-"Was all Stan could get off before I landed on his back, scrabbling at his face. Anything to get him away from Craig.

And before I knew it I was flying again, only this time I went down instead of up and afterwards my head seemed stuffed full of cotton. Coppered iron slithered its way into my mute senses; I must have bitten my tongue.

- . -

The administrators did come eventually, sadists that they are, and hauled me and Craig off to the office to await our fates. Stan and Kyle were excused; apparently playing sports and being smart means you can beat people up with no consequences.

Huh. I thought, rather sarcastically.

It was silent for a while, the only sounds being the tacking of the secretaries' keyboard and the sound of slight shuffling.

The furniture here really isn't comfortable I thought wearily.

Something nudged my grey pant leg, blue chucks, and I looked over to see Craig lounging in the chair beside me. "Thanks." His eyes were sincere, and to be completely honest I was surprised. 'Thank you's' directed at me were a new one in my life, but coming from Craig, need I remind you motherfucking, Tucker…it left me speechless.

"…Uh" Snapping out of it "Y-yeah! No problem man! Thanks f-for…punching S-Stan in th-third grade for me!" I'm sure the statement sounded completely odd, especially coming from someone like me, but Ian didn't frown. His lips twitched upwards "Man…" and he laughed "you remember that? Haha!"

"Y-yeah!" I grinned "He f-fell into Bebe's glue and gl-glitter project, he had s-sparkles on him f-for a week!" I chimed excitedly. "He was always an ass" Craig observed "even in third grade, he deserved it."

We started talking even more after that, and pretty soon, time began to move exponentially faster in the dull grey office of 'authority'. Apparently Wendy had tried to kiss Craig. "Hell no." He'd said to me, he wouldn't touch that chick even if she was begging him. And long story short Stan walked in on it.

"I told him he might want to keep tabs on Kyle and Wendy, said he might be sharing more than he thought with his besty." Craig spoke, keeping his bruised face straight.

It didn't last long and soon we were both choking on laughter, right up till the Principal called Craig into her office – where he once again tried to school a straight face. Chuckling, it didn't work very well. Stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, Craig slid into the office with a "Talk to you later?" and shut the door.

And so there I sat, in a crappy chair, at the crappy office of a crappy school because of a crappy situation and for once, I didn't feel crappy.

For once…I felt pretty good.~

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><p><strong>If you've gone this far, thank you so much for reading this! It really means a lot to me C:<strong>

**This fic was made for fun, yay! If you had as much fun reading it as much as I did writing it, tell me! I'd love to talk to you~ : D**

**I must admit, I am a huge Creek fan - but I didn't want that to be the point of the story, so I left it open ended. You guys can decide whether it was the start of a glorious friendship or the beginning of new found love...ohoho~**

**Lot's of Love,**

**LurkingSpork**

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